Nothing Left To Say
by Shaitanah
Summary: James Potter thought he was weak. No, he wasn't. JPLV slash implied. Please, R&R!


**Title**: "Nothing Left To Say"

**Author**: Shaitanah

**Rating**: PG-13 JP/LV slash implied

**Summary**: _James Potter thought he was weak. No, he wasn't._ Please, R&R!

**Disclaimer**: _Harry Potter_ doesn't belong to me. In fact, we all know who it belongs to! The song "Nothing In My Way" belongs to _Keane_.

**A/N**: This fic didn't turn out the way I planned it, but I still think it's good. Don't forget to tell me what you think.

**NOTHING LEFT TO SAY**

A turning tide,

Lovers at a great divide.

Why d'you lie

When I know that you hurt inside?

A cloaked figure made its way through the crowd towards James. He tensed as he caught the familiar glimmer of the red eyes under the hood.

They called him Voldemort. He was the man everybody loathed and feared. His hands were covered in blood of his despised enemies. He was quick to judge and even quicker to execute. He found some ecstatic pleasure in ending lives. Those who saw him kill said he was ruthless, and cold, and beautiful… something James never could or never wanted to be.

It wasn't the first time he met Voldemort. Their paths crossed more than once, and James always dreaded _this_ particular day would come. Today Voldemort had come just for him.

"Shall we take a walk?" he asked in his cold, polite voice. James gave a stiff nod.

"I am – and forever will be! – loyal to the Order", he said when they walked farther from unwanted listeners.

The Dark Lord shook his head. To his great astonishment, James heard him chuckle softly. The sound sent shivers down his spine. James felt heat creep up onto his face. He lowered his head, hoping it wasn't that noticeable.

"You are a real wizard, Potter", Voldemort stated. "What are you doing with those Mudblood rats led by Dumbledore? Oh, the great Albus Dumbledore! The greatest sorcerer in the world, huh? I don't think so!"

James sighed. At times like these he cursed himself for his pure blood. Sometimes he just wished he'd already been dead like hundreds of those who dared stand up to Lord Voldemort. It hurt immensely to be so close to him, to have all that power already in his grasp – and to turn the offer down out of loyalty to some old ideals that weren't even his to follow. He did it for Lily, for their newborn baby, for his friends, for Albus who, after all, was the kindest person in the world, indeed.

Nobody knew what abyss of desire James Potter carried within himself. He admitted that he was weak, too weak to deny that he lusted for power and passion that Light could never give him. So he succumbed to Darkness. He embraced Voldemort's visits when the Dark Lord sought him out as granted and though James never did anything to help him to achieve his evil goals, he became sort of addicted to spending time with him. He used to wonder what Voldemort saw in him – a toy, a slave, a cure from his everlasting boredom. Then it just stopped bothering him. They arranged meetings in public places and took long walks in the woods, in the alleys of London, anywhere they could pass unnoticed. At first, they only talked. It was what James considered to be some weird sort of friendship if that word had any weight at all when it came to Lord Voldemort. They talked about all sorts of things starting from their models of wands to politics and philosophy. James was objective enough to admit he wasn't deep enough or educated enough to keep up the conversation sometimes so he just enjoyed Voldemort's speeches. Rumours had it he was sociating with a murderer, an insane person, a cold-blooded traitor, but James crossed all that rubbish out of his mind for those few precious hours a week he got to spend with Voldemort. At night he lay sleepless in his bed by Lily's side, listening to the sweet sound of her breath, and scolded himself for being so weak, so spineless.

'Try to understand', he explained Lily in their imaginative conversations (thanks God, they never had real ones like that). 'I need it for me. This is something I do just for me, to feel real, to feel _myself_. That way I can always come back to you and be your perfect husband, the warrior for the Light, the one who comes to your rescue every time you need it'.

In other words, James Potter needed to feel bad in order to act good.

And why'd you say

It's just another day, nothing in my way

I don't wanna go, I don't wanna stay

So there's nothing left to say?

And why'd you lie

When you wanna die, when you hurt inside

Don't know what you lie for anyway

Now there's nothing left to say.

It started out with a kiss, as far as he could recall. James began to notice that he missed the content of Voldemort's speeches gradually, drowning in the sound of his voice, looking straight into his eyes. Nobody considered the Dark Lord handsome though rumour had it he used to be quite striking a long time ago. There was something snake-like about him, something predatory in the way he looked at people, in the way intonation varied in his voice as he spoke. Nobody remembered the true color of his eyes; they were forever bloodshot now. But James never cared much for appearance. The moment he touched Voldemort's cold lips his face became a mask and James merely looked past it.

'What if someone found out?' James asked himself. His inner voice told him to be more cautious but he already began his fall. Swinging and spinning, he fell into the nothing's embrace and he was damn happy about it.

"What will it be for me?" James asked. Voldemort looked at him a little askew. "I mean, among your followers if… I decide to join you".

"Is that a spark of doubt, Potter?"

James almost hated the careless, sardonic way in which it was spoken. For a particle of a second he honestly considered changing sides – but now his doubt expired.

"There", he remarked, "you blew it. I don't want to join you".

"Care to explain why?"

A tell-tale sign,

You don't know where to draw the line.

James Potter thought he was weak. No, he wasn't. Each night he came back home and pressed his ear to his wife's stomach to feel his baby push and turn inside her womb, he felt complete. He would look in the mirror and see the proud stag, his Animagus form, the man he'd once been. He would remember his friends, the Marauders, cheerful evenings in their company, cups of butterbear and laughter floating above their table in the tavern.

He could never be like Voldemort. He had the list of names, Voldemort's allies. Malfoy, Crabbe, Lestrange, McNair, Goyle… 'I don't think so', he told himself.

"What if one day he comes for us?" Lily asked, holding little Harry in her arms. The baby tossed and made a small meaningless noise.

"These are dark and treacherous times, Lil", Sirius replied. He came to visit and James was grateful for that. He needed to see his friends more often.

It was unnaturally cold in the room. Black got up, lighted a few more lamps and managed a merry smile. "Remember what Dumbledore likes to say. Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, when one only remembers to turn on the light".

"You take it literally as I see!" James jested.

"I try not to sink into despair! Unlike some of us".

"Boys!" Lily frowned. Potter and Black awarded her with wide, innocent grins. She looked a bit pale; James could only guess how frightened she was. Not for herself, no! For him, her dearly beloved husband who kept too many secrets from her, and for little Harry who had only begun to live but was now in equal peril.

And why'd you say

It's just another day, nothing in my way

I don't wanna go, I don't wanna stay

So there's nothing left to say?

And why'd you lie

When you wanna die, when you hurt inside

Don't know what you lie for anyway

Now there's nothing left to say.

"I suppose you understand that I make this kind of suggestion only once", Voldemort said. "You are pureblood. Your place is by my side. You are worthy".

"Thank you. I'm flattered".

The Dark Lord stopped and turned to look at his potential ally. He could feel James was very far from him already. It felt like cold shower to Voldemort. All those months, how come he didn't notice? Potter had been gradually slipping away and – poof! – he wasn't there anymore! He belonged to the Dark Lord no longer. In fact, he never had…

And there was truly nothing left to say.

"Do you want to die?" Voldemort asked.

"Do you?"

Voldemort walked away without another word. James stood in the middle of the park-alley, staring in that direction, and then he went home. His fate was determined.

He told his wife to pack, and the Potters went into hiding. Only the closest friends including Dumbledore and the Marauders knew where they stayed – Godric's Hollow, a quiet and peaceful place where Evil had no agents.

Finally James felt himself alive. He could breathe again. He must have been strong to refuse Voldemort's offer knowing the consequences. He must have been very strong.

For a lonely soul, you're having such a nice time.

For a lonely soul, you're having such a nice time.

For a lonely soul, it seems to me that you're having such a nice time.

You're having such a nice time.

The night that was darker than its sisters Lord Voldemort approached the Potters' house in Godric's Hollow with the sour taste of regret. He wanted to give the Dark Mark to Potter, not that incompetent, slimy coward Pettigrew. But he was in desperate need of spies and Pettigrew was close to Potter so he knew exactly where James had escaped. The time for vengeance had come. Noone could say no to Lord Voldemort and live on.

But Voldemort hesitated. At first, blinded with rage, he wanted to act immediately. He wanted Potter on his knees, begging for mercy – and no, he'd grant him none! He'd see him gone forever and then he'd go after his offspring. Every memory of James Potter should be brutally erased!

But days went by as his agents searched England for the fugitives and Voldemort calmed down. He never repeated his offers but he might have made an exclusion for Potter. Perhaps the wizard should have thought it out more thoroughly, perhaps there had been something that could have persuaded him to change his mind.

Voldemort balled his fists. He knew perfectly well there was nothing. Nothing could change the situation. For a second, the Dark Lord actually wished there had been something human left in his soul to feel sorry for James, such an unnecessary sacrifice. Good-bye, James.

Without further doubt the Dark Lord stepped up to the door. James Potter's death was scheduled for now.

_August 13 – 14. 2006_


End file.
